“I give a fuck,” I spat. “Come on, Berry. This party sucks ass. Nice firepits.”

“Right, I didn’t invite you,” Tanner slurred, taking another swig from his beer. “So you should probably fuck off now.”

I took a step back. “Yeah, I already said we were leaving. Way to swing ahead of the curve.”

Without looking, we marched away, not out. But actually to the edge of Tanner’s property, to the edge of an abyss of country-style blackout dark. My legs felt like jelly.

“I’m so sorry,” Berry said. “Oh my God, I am so so sorry, Anne.”

“Why are you sorry?” My heart dropped. “I brought you here. Because I’m clearly a party genius who can tell what parties will be good for negotiating not being an asshole. Like, I’m a complete empty-brain nightmare. And I dragged you into it.”

Tears streaked down my cheeks. I felt Berry’s hand on my arm. Like a cat’s paw.

“You know the last time I was here,” she said, “it was for Tanner’s, like, tenth birthday party? And they had a pony? And it shit everywhere. And Tanner wore a little cowboy outfit. And the pony bit him twice. Once in the back.”

“You were here? For his birthday?”

“Back when everyone was invited to birthday parties.” Berry looked around. “Yah.”

“Did you have to bring a present?” I asked.

“Price of admission.” Berry nodded. “I think I brought a puzzle. My dad is big on them.”

“Your dad is so cool,” I sniffed.

“Sometimes,” Berry conceded.

I could feel my heartbeat starting to slow to something less than a frantic marching band.

“Did you ever get a loot bag?”

“A loot bag?” Berry’s forehead crinkled. “Like stealing?”

“No! A loot bag. Is that what you call it? Like a present you get for going to someone’s party,” I said.

“I don’t think so.” Berry tapped her lip. “I think Tanner’s mom used to give everyone scented candles to take home.”

“And yet, somehow, I’m the weird one.”

Berry smirked. “I think I might have barfed because I ate too much cake.”

“I, as you know, am well acquainted with inappropriate feelings of nausea.”

Somewhere behind us a girl started screaming as she was picked up and slung over someone else’s shoulder. “LET ME GO! HAHAHAH! YOU DICK!”

“You know who I bet throws good parties,” I thought out loud, “I bet you Mr. Davidson throws really interesting parties.” I pulled my hands into the sleeves. The air was starting to chill my nose to the temperature of a glass of ice water.

“Because he wears turtlenecks.”

“Well, I don’t think the fact that he wears turtlenecks means he doesn’t throw a good party,” I said. “I mean, Tanner probably doesn’t own a turtleneck, and this party. . .”